Her Resolution
by LittleBlueConverse
Summary: Brennan has only 1 resolution for the new year: be healthier. But the people around her aren't so sure that is the case. Contains eating disorder content
1. Chapter 1

AN: Hey guys. This is my first story here. I don't really know if I should post this, because it might somehow be triggering to some people who struggle with eating. I hope it isn't, and some people might take something from this story.

- - - - - -

At the end of another grueling case, Seeley Booth wanted nothing more than to relax at the local diner or pub with his partner. Poking his head into her office in the Jeffersonian, he saw she was typing away on her computer.

"Hey Bones," he called out when her fingers ceased typing, "you want to grab a bite to eat at the Diner?" Her focus shifted from her computer to the man standing before her. His tie was loose and his shirt was rumpled after a long day's work. She hated to turn him down.

"I'm sorry, Booth, but I can't." She paused, trying to ignore the frown that passed her partner's face. "My resolution this year is to be healthier. No more diner food. It's just not healthy."

"Come on, Bones. You can just get a salad, and I promise to not let you eat my fries," he smirked.

"No, Booth, not now. It's easier to just resist all that temptation to begin with. I'm just going to eat at home," she shrugged before adding, "You're welcome to eat at my place."

"It's okay. I'll just catch you next time around. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah," she nodded, "tomorrow."

- - - - - -

Like nearly every other adult in the DC area, Temperance Brennan headed straight from work to the gym. Normally she would prefer to do her running on the streets of her neighborhood, but the January weather was far too cold and icy for that. She stepped onto the only available treadmill, adjusted the settings, and ran. After competing three miles on the treadmill, she moved to the elliptical machine for a half an hour before heading over to the rack of free weights. Hours after entering the gym, she left completely devoid of energy and drenched in sweat.

Heading into her apartment, she headed straight to her room where she unpacked and repacked her gym bag before collecting her night clothes and heading into the shower. The heat of the water was a welcome relief against her clammy skin. When her shower was complete and she was once again clothed, she made her way into the kitchen.

She stood in front of the open pantry doors for three minutes. Uninspired, she moved next to the refrigerator. Shuffling things around, she pulled out a partially empty carton of half and half. "I thought I threw you away," she mumbled as she tossed it into the garbage can. Finding nothing of interest in her kitchen, she returned to her bedroom. She was very tired from her day at work and the workout her body had endured. "Tonight," she mumbled as she reached for her bedside lamp, "tonight is for sleeping. Tomorrow is for eating."

- - - -

Despite her fatigue, she woke from a restless sleep at an early hour. After some stretches and yoga, she wandered again into the kitchen. Again seeing nothing of interest, she turned to get ready for the day. Hearing her stomach rumble, she turned around yet again. She greedily ate a banana, followed by an apple (both of which were organic). She washed down her fruit with a large glass of water.

Upon arriving at the Jeffersonian, she went directly to her office in a vain attempt to complete the mountain of paper work that seemed to be a constant, foreboding presence on her desk. As was typical, she was almost done with one report before her partner appeared at the entrance to her office. He paused for a moment, leaning on the door frame before he spoke.

"Morning, Bones. I have a report here about a body found in an industrial waste pool." She sighed as she got up from her desk. Would she ever finish that paper work?

"I'll get my kit," she paused, "and my boots." She returned several minutes later, zipping up her Jeffersonian-issue jumpsuit. She had several layers on beneath the resistant blue material, and she pulled on her boots before they left the lab.

Hours later, she was chilled down to her bones by the January air. The body had been documented and recovered, and was heading for storage at the Jeffersonian. Brennan adjusted the air vents in Booth's vehicle so they were aimed directly at her.

"So what do you think of this one, Bones?" Booth tried to provoke some sort of conversation.

"My thoughts should be withheld pending further investigation of the skeletal remains, Booth. You know that." She crossed her arms across her chest.

"Come on. I just want to know what was shoved in his ear hole," he grinned at her.

"Mmm," was all she said in response.

"What's up with you, Bones? You're not like you normally are." He glanced at her while maintaining awareness of his surroundings.

"Nothing is 'up' with me."

"You seem kinda tired, or, I don't know really. You just seem different."

"I'm not different. I'm actually quite the same. I feel fine. I'm not tired."

"Okay. Are you hungry? We could go to Lenny's for dinner. They have a giant salad bar. It's, like, almost as long as a basketball court." He smirked at his great idea.

"It is not as long as a basketball court. I've been there before. I told you before, I'm sticking to eating at home."

"But it's salad. With a jillion toppings! It's healthy!"

"But it's not organic. Besides, if I go out with you, I won't have time to hit the gym tonight."

"Did you go last night?"

"Of course I went last night."

"So then you can just skip tonight. And how important is organic, really?"

"To me, it's quite important. I'm trying to be healthier, and in my mind that means not ingesting a chemical cocktail with my produce. If you really want to spend time with me, just have dinner at my place."

"That's fine," he nodded. "When will you be done at the gym?"

"I'll just go after you leave," she said as they rolled to a stop in the Jeffersonian parking deck. "I'll meet you at my place in an hour. I just need to make sure everything is secure with the body we recovered today and change my clothes."

"Okay," Booth agreed, "I'll see you in an hour."

- - - - - -

Exactly an hour later, Booth stood before his partner's door. He knocked three times. He heard a thud inside the apartment about thirty seconds before the door opened. She stood before him in sweats. She stared at him for a moment before asking him why he wasn't coming in. She led the way into the kitchen, where Booth handed her a bottle of organic wine he had picked up on the way.

"Thank you, Booth, but I'm trying to cut alcohol out of my diet. It's really not very good for you."

"But Bones," he said with exasperation, "it's organic red wine. Red wine is supposed to be good for your heart, right? In small doses?" He flashed her a smile before setting the bottle on her kitchen counter.

She opened her fridge and pulled out a bowl full of sliced fruit, followed by a bowl of greens. When she started reaching for plates and utensils, Booth interjected himself into her process.

"Is that all you have? No bread? No meat?" She shot him a glare. "Okay, no meat. No bread, though? Where's the ranch dressing?"

"I have some sandwich bread if you'd like it, but I suppose I didn't think about that. Of course I don't have any meat; I haven't eaten it in years. And I tossed the salad lightly with oil and vinegar, so there is no need for ranch dressing. And besides that, I threw it out. It's too high in fat."

He simply nodded, and they began eating. Their dinner conversation remained as light as their fare. He could not even taste whatever oil she claimed to have added to the salad. Booth could not help but watch what she was eating. She seemed to be eating much more slowly than he was. She was taking her time to chew everything thoroughly before swallowing. Between her meager bites she would prod the food on her plate.

After dinner he took the leftover fruit to her fridge. When he opened the refrigerator, he saw that, like everything else of hers, it was tidy. In the drawers were many different fruits and vegetables. Missing were the average American staples: things like milk, cheese, and mayonnaise. He stood before her fridge, wondering if he should bring it up. She caught him staring into her refrigerator and gave him a look.

"Oh, I was just craving some milk. Do you have any?" he hoped he sounded casual.

"No. That's another thing I'm giving up. I'm going vegan this year. You should really look up the health arguments for veganism. It's remarkable."

"Vegan. That's like a crazy vegetarian, right?" he looked skeptical.

"I wouldn't call it crazy. It's a way of eating that does not include any animal products at all, hence my missing milk."

"Huh. Okay, I guess. As long as you know what you're doing."

"I do know what I'm doing, Booth. I've done my research." She paused. "I don't mean to be rude, but I really want to be getting to the gym tonight."

"You want to go so soon after eating? Won't that make you sick?"

"By the time I get there it won't be so soon after eating. It will be fine."

"If you say so," he said on their way through her living room. "Hey Bones, why is there a medicine ball on your floor?"

"Oh, I was doing some sit ups before dinner." He eyed her warily.

"Okay, well I'll just let you go then. Don't push yourself too hard. If you're looking for definition, it's not going to happen overnight," he tried to sound conversational. "Let me know if you need a gym buddy." In reality, he was curious as to how hard she was pushing herself at the gym. Maybe he was imagining things, but her new health plan didn't sound very healthy to him.

Once he was in his car, he flipped his phone open and called Angela. She answered on the third ring.

"Hey, Ange. It's Booth. I hope I'm not bothering you." She assured him he wasn't. "I was just wondering if you've talked to Bones lately, or been to dinner with her."

"No, Sweetie, I haven't. Why?"

"I was just at her place for dinner, and I wasn't sure what to think."

"Oh, because she's gone vegan? I'm sure she'd be fine if you wanted to bring over some meat or dairy. She was always fine as a vegetarian."

"Not just because she says she's vegan. She's also been exercising a lot lately. I just didn't want to think too much of it, you know?"

"What? You think Bren would have an eating disorder? No, she's not the type of person for that."

- - - - - - - -

Three and a half miles on the treadmill, two and a half miles on the stationary bike, and a lot of reps with the free weights, and she was done for the night. Heading home, she felt like she had a brick sitting in the pit of her stomach. Maybe it was all that oil she dumped on the salad. As she jogged up the stairs to her apartment, her stomach went into a series of cramps. Racing to her bathroom, she vomited up the last of what had almost been a pleasant meal with Booth. She saw him watching her. She knew something had piqued whatever sense made him such a great investigator. She wasn't sure exactly what he thought he was seeing. Maybe he was just shocked by how good a healthy meal could be.

- - - - - - - - -

AN: Thoughts? Should I expand this, or should I chuck it and stick to reading fan fics?


	2. Chapter 2

AN: First off, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed. I read them all and it made me happy every time I'd get an email telling me I had a new review.

As it turns out, this is quite a hard topic to write on when you take into consideration that members of your audience may be suffering from the eating disorders you're writing about. I'm trying to leave out enough details so this story doesn't bother people who have an eating disorder, but at the same time, I'm trying to include enough details to make the story readable and believable.

- - - - - -

Weeks later, and her pants were fitting more loosely. This was something she had expected; after all, she was eliminating a great deal of unnecessary calories from her diet. More than ever, Booth was on her case to eat. He spoke with her at least two times per day to make sure she was eating enough. He never seemed satisfied with her diet, even though she took him through the nutrient content of her meals frequently. Looking in the mirror, she saw a healthy woman who could probably shed a few more pounds and look fantastic. She told herself that if she was looking really good by spring she would book a cruise, and maybe convince Angela or Booth to come along.

- - - - - - -

Angela had been watching her best friend carefully after that first phone call from Booth. Although she herself had said that there was no way her friend could have an eating disorder, she was starting to doubt the validity of her own argument. She watched as Brennan locked herself in her office during lunch breaks, working on her computer and sometimes downing an apple and a bottle of water. Of course, Brennan had never been one to actually eat on her lunch breaks in the first place, but her lack of lunch caused concern. Angela couldn't be sure whether or not it was her mind playing tricks on her, but her friend seemed to appear thinner these days.

At the end of their Friday work day Angela strode towards Brennan's office. Angela's birthday had been that week, and the plan was to go out on Friday in celebration. She knocked lightly on the door before entering.

"Bren, sweetie? Work's over for the week. It's party time!" she smiled as her eyes met those of her friend.

"Okay, Angela. Just give me a second," she said as she signed her name at the bottom of her report with a flourish. With her back to her friend, she stood and put on her coat, collecting her things in the process.

For her celebration, Angela decided to go to a local bar and grill where they could enjoy a few drinks and get a bite to eat. Doubting the amount of vegan options Brennan would be able to enjoy, she had asked her friend if she minded the choice of restaurant. Brennan replied that it was fine, and she would manage to find something.

- - - - - - -

Arriving at the bar, they quickly found a rounded booth large enough to accommodate their party. Soon enough the drinks were flowing, and the squint squad were taking turns paying for Angela's share. Brennan was sitting on one edge of the table, with Booth right by her side. It seemed like everyone was having a great time with their drinks, while she was pretending to study the menu. She knew there was nothing on the menu she would eat. Besides offering nothing on the menu that appealed to her, she did not want her friends and the strangers all around watching her scarf down her food.

"Come on, Bones," Booth prodded her out of her thoughts. "Can't you at least have one drink tonight? It's a celebration! Take one night off that ridiculous diet you've put yourself on."

"It's not a diet. It's a means of becoming healthier, and I have a drink," she nodded to her glass.

"Who goes to a bar and orders a Perrier? Seriously?" he looked at her incredulously.

"Evidently, _I_ go to a bar and order a Perrier. Just enjoy your beer and stop making fun of my beverage choice," she frowned.

The waitress had appeared to take their food orders and refresh their drinks. Brennan noticed her pulse rise when the young woman looked at her. She was the last to order, and after telling the waitress she didn't care for any food, the woman sauntered off in the direction of the kitchen. As soon as the other members of the party resumed their merry banter, Booth turned in her direction.

"Why didn't you get any food?" he demanded of her.

"You should know by now why I didn't get any food here," she said with a slight edge to her voice.

"Yeah, yeah. It's not organic. It's not healthy. Bar food is too fatty. It has too many calories," he frowned. Her heart skipped a beat, and her brow furrowed.

"It's not about the calories," she said quickly. "I genuinely want to be a healthy person. Sometimes I wish you guys would put a little more thought into the foods you eat," she looked into his eyes, "because I want you all to be healthy and live long lives."

"That's what you say Bones, but I don't think anyone but you would be able to live on what you eat in a day." She rolled her eyes.

"Is this going to be another lecture on why you think I should be eating more, and occasionally eating greasy bar food?"

"No, because I tell you sixty times a day, and so far you haven't listened to a damn word I've said," he said, his irritation apparent.

"While it is slightly annoying how often you harass me about food, it is nowhere near sixty times a day, and I do listen to what you're saying, Booth."

"No, Bones. There is a difference between hearing and listening."

"Just because I don't agree with what you are saying doesn't mean I'm not listening to you." By this point their voices had begun to rise, and they were attracting the attention of the rest of their party. Deciding to be the bigger person and let the conversation drop, Brennan turned away from Booth and complimented Cam on her top.

Though he wasn't satisfied by their conversation, Booth did not bother her for the rest of the evening about her eating habits. He melded into his surrounding, laughing and drinking with the rest of their party, but he never became too distracted to notice that his partner was only giving part of her attention to her surroundings. Before leaving for the night, he had a quick, and slightly slurred, discussion with Angela.

- - - - - -

Not long after waking the next morning, Brennan's phone rang. She answered it and immediately recognized the voice of her artist friend. Proclaiming that it had been too long since they had last had quality "girl time" Angela invited her on a shopping excursion.

"Come on, Sweetie," Angela whined. "It's been like forever since I've seen you outside of work."

"But you saw me last night at the bar," she pointed out.

"That doesn't count because that wasn't just us. And besides, you didn't seem to be enjoying yourself very much. You were arguing with Booth."

"We weren't arguing," Brennan insisted. "Well, we weren't arguing all night," she amended.

"Regardless, I know there are some great sales going on at the mall this weekend. Let's go shopping! It's almost time to start looking for a bathing suit."

"Angela, it's February," she exclaimed. "It's not bathing suit time!" She didn't mention that her body wasn't ready for bathing suit weather, or that she didn't want anyone seeing her in only a bathing suit right now. She still had some pounds to lose.

"Okay, well we can still go to the mall," she insisted. Brennan had to admit that she needed to buy new clothes. Her old ones were starting to hang loosely on her frame, but figuring that she would need even more clothes once her weight loss was complete, she declined her friend's offer.

"I don't know, Angela. I have things to get done today."

"Sweetie, what do you have to do today that can't wait until tomorrow, or next week?"

"Well," she faltered, "I really need to get some work done on my next book. I'm two chapters behind schedule as it is. My apartment is a wreck. I really need to get some cleaning done. I also need to go to the grocery store."

"I highly doubt your apartment is a mess. You keep it immaculately clean. How about I let you do your chores today, and I'll bring over a movie to watch tonight. I know Booth talked you into buying an entertainment system." Brennan smiled at the memory.

"Okay. You can come over tonight, and we can watch a movie. How does 8 o'clock sound?"

"It sounds like a plan."

- - - - - - - -

"Booth," he said into his cell phone.

"Hey Booth," Angela said. "I just talked to Brennan. You were right; she won't go shopping with me. She sounded as if she might, but then I mentioned bathing suits and she shut me off." He sighed with frustration and rubbed his temple.

"What am I going to do with her?"

"I don't know, Booth. I just don't want to believe that she has… she is… you know. I don't even want to say it."

"I know. I'm just so worried about her."

"Tell you what. You show up at her apartment at eight o'clock with a DVD. Tell her I had a date I forgot about and didn't want to leave her hanging."

"Are you sure, Angela? You haven't seen her in a while, and she's a little bit mad at me."

"I'm positive. Just don't talk to her about food, or this…whatever it is until we have a plan that will help us deal with the wrath of Temperance Brennan. Speaking of, do you have a plan? I mean, if this is a problem, we should probably address it before it gets too out of hand."

"I don't have a plan yet," he grumbled. "I don't want to bring Sweets in on this one, but I might have to."

"He's a good kid, and he knows what he's talking about," Angela assured him. "If she needs help, he could help her."

"Okay. Thanks, Ange. Have fun on your 'date' tonight."

"You too."

- - - - - - -

After hanging up the phone, Brennan had set out to do her chores. Her book didn't need any attention, and her apartment still held its usual level of pristine cleanliness. So instead of those chores, she went to the gym and the grocery store. Although she had slightly cut down on her gym routine, she felt time getting away from her all too quickly. At fifteen before eight, she stood in front of her full-length mirror examining her scantily-clad body with the same analytical eyes she used to study human remains. She had gained a pound overnight. Logically, she knew that it could be water weight, but somehow she wasn't convinced. She _felt_ fat, all around. She pinched the fat of her stomach and frowned at her reflection. Before she knew it, she heard a knock on the door. She hastily threw on some clothes and went to the door.

Looking through the peephole, she was surprised to see Booth standing there.

"Booth, what are you doing here? I'm supposed lay out with Angela tonight. She's going to be here soon."

"I think you mean 'hang out' Bones. And you're wrong: Angela forgot she had a date tonight, so she sent me instead."

"She could have just called. I wouldn't have been very upset."

"I'm hurt, Bones," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "I brought a movie," he flashed a cheeky grin at her.

"Okay," she relented, "come on in."

They went into her apartment and sat on the couch. She took the DVD case from him and moved to put the move into the player.

"Bones," Booth interrupted, "can I ask you a question?"

"Of course you can," she said, sitting back on the couch.

"Why did you decide to change your diet? You know, eating healthier, and vegan and such."

"Well," she took a deep breath, "at the end of December I did as nearly every American did. I took a step back and looked at what I wanted to change in my life. Instead of just looking at myself, I looked at the way our society functions as a whole. The United States is the most obese country in the world. We're also unhealthy. I started watching people when were out eating. The food they order is disgusting. I didn't want to be a part of that." When she finished, he just let her sit.

She remembered that week in December when she just observed the dining habits of those around her. The types and amounts of foods ordered were disgusting. People were ordering calories by the thousand. Once they had their food, they ate with such gusto, she sometimes found it hard to watch. After that she examined her own dining habits. She realized that she ate a lot of food outside her home, and when she did, she usually ordered things like high-calorie milkshakes and French fries. She saw the weight of the country on her own body. When the new year rolled around, is seemed a natural choice for her to alter her diet and exercise routine, in much the same fashion that most American adults vow to every year. On January first, she tossed all of the animal products in her home, keeping only organic fruits and vegetables. When she noticed Booth still looking at her, she spoke.

"It's normal to change your diet at the beginning of the year. If you look at the front pages of magazines, you'll see that most advertise quick weight loss solutions."

"So you also wanted to lose weight?" he probed.

"No," she said quickly. "I mean, I knew it would happen naturally once I cut out excess calories and started going to the gym regularly. It wasn't my primary objective, though." Again he offered her silence, which she filled after a moment's hesitation.

"Although if I am in good enough shape by spring, I'm going to book a cruise. Would you be interested in coming with me?"

"What do you mean? You're in great shape now! You look fine!" Her mouth tightened.

"Thank you for the flattery, Booth, but we both know I have a way to go until I have that great bikini shape." She stood again to put the movie into the player. He stood too.

"Let me see," he demanded. She handed him the movie. "No, let me see your body so I can judge for myself."

"That's a little bit forward, Booth," she objected.

"I just want to see what kind of beach body I'm up against." She rolled her eyes and lifted the hem of her T shirt. She felt foolish standing there with her shirt up, nearly flashing her partner. And then he did something she didn't expect. He moved in and embraced her in a tight hug, rubbing his hand up and down the length of her back. When he stepped back, he excused himself for the night.

Following Booth's departure, Brennan found herself confused. Why had Booth hugged her? She once again examined her body in the mirror. Had Booth hugged her because he was proud of her progress? Did he pity her, with so far to go in her quest for a perfect body? Did he just want a hug before he left?

- - - - - - - -

As soon as he was in the safe confines of his car, Booth was on the phone. He had been shocked and surprised at just how thin Bones was. He didn't realize that under her professional work attire his Bones was becoming, well, bones. The phone was answered on the fourth ring.

"'Lo?" a sleepy voice queried.

"Sweets? You there?"

"Agent Booth? It's two in the morning." Booth let out a deep sigh and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I need to talk to you about Bones. Now."

- - - - - - - - -

AN: Questions, comments, concerns? Send me a review.

PS: I'm posting this at about 6 AM. That screams dedication, right?


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: The reasons for the delay in posting this include (but are not limited to): an anthropology test, a communications presentation, a paper on climate change, a geography test, a sociology test, and an environmental science test.**

- - - - -

Booth would be a liar if he proclaimed to have never wondered what his partner looked like beneath her clothes. Over the course of their partnership it had been the cause of many cold showers and the occasional sleepless night. Sometimes he drove himself to insanity trying not to touch her when they were together. In his opinion, she had one of the best bodies he had ever seen. And then everything changed.

As hard as he tried, he could not banish the sight of her bare stomach from his mind. How could she not realize that she was wasting away? Did she not see it, or did she not care? He remembered uncomfortably how thin her frame had felt when he had moved in for a hug. He could feel the vertebrae in her back, and he had felt as if he could crush her with one arm.

That night had started a long and serious phone web that included himself, Angela, Sweets, Cam, and Hodgins. Each and every one of them had noticed something slightly off about the anthropologist. After some long and serious discussions, they had a plan.

- - - - -

Brennan rose before the sun, and made her way into her bathroom, heading directly to the scales. She had lost weight from the same time last week, but she wanted to lose 5 more pounds. It seemed to her that perfection was always 5 pounds away. She dressed herself in layers and went into the kitchen, where she poured herself a glass of juice. She had recently put herself on a juice cleanse that would last for a week and a half. Consuming nothing but juice at each meal would allow her digestive system a break and would allow the cells of her body to purge whatever nastiness had accumulated there.

True to the adage, March had come in like a lion. The DC area was covered in a slushy, icy mixture. She cranked the heater in her car to its highest setting. Once inside the Jeffersonian, she could feel the cold creeping in. She shivered and put an extra sweater on beneath her blue lab coat. It seemed she had just begun examining the latest set of skeletal remains when Booth appeared at her side.

"What do we have here, Bones?" he asked.

"It is the postcranial remains of a white male, aged 20-25. Based on the antique bullet lodged in the anterior face of the vertebra, it would appear that this is a case for the archaeology department."

"Great. That's one less murderer to catch. I need your report for the Williamson case. Do you have it?" She looked at him.

"I need to finish the full inventory on these remains. The report you're looking for is in the basket on my desk; you can get it yourself." She turned back to the skeleton on the table.

"Bones, I don't want to go through your stuff. Do you think you could just take a minute and get it? Then I can get out of your hair." He flashed her a smile, and she glared at him before snapping off her latex gloves and descending from the platform.

She was aware of him following her into her office. When she noticed the extra people crowded into chairs inside her office she turned to leave, only to find her partner blocking the door. Scanning the familiar faces in her office, she didn't like what she saw. Sadness. Pity. Fear.

"Doctor Brennan, why don't you have a seat," Sweets said, indicating her office chair. She looked from Sweets to Booth and reluctantly sat. "Why do you think we're all here?"

"I don't have any idea. Would you care to explain?" From the corner of her eye, she saw Booth shaking his head.

"We're all here today because we're concerned about you," Sweets said.

"I still don't understand," she insisted. "Why are you all so concerned?"

"The way you've been eating lately," he began.

"That's what this is about?" she exploded.

"Yes. That is exactly what this is about. We've noticed that you've been eating less, and looking a lot thinner. You look unhealthy."

"Guys," she said, scanning each face, "there is nothing wrong with me. I've just lost a little bit of weight. I cut a lot of unnecessary food from my diet. It's natural to lose some weight after that."

"Right," Cam said. "If you didn't look like a skeleton, we wouldn't be concerned with your weight loss. But you look emaciated."

"I do not look emaciated, and my eating habits are fine. In fact, the way I eat really shouldn't concern you at all."

"But it does, Sweetie," Angela answered.

"If you don't mind me asking," Cam ventured, "what are you planning on having for lunch today?"

"I do mind you asking," she replied defensively.

"Bones," Booth said from his position at the door, "just answer the question."

"Grape juice," she answered. The silence in the room was palpable. "I'm on a juice cleanse," she explained. "I'm cleaning out my system and getting rid of the toxins."

"When was the last time you ate solid food," Hodgins couldn't help asking. She looked slightly taken aback.

"Thursday," she mumbled.

"Sweetie, it's Wednesday. When were you planning on eating solid food again?" Angela asked.

"Maybe on Monday," she said quietly.

"Do you understand why we are all so concerned now, Doctor Brennan?" Sweets probed, gently.

"No. I'm healthy, and this is none of your business," she restated.

"Bones," Booth said, walking over to her, "if you're healthy, why don't you go to your doctor and get some blood work done? Provide us with evidence. If you're healthy, then we'll all stop worrying about you." She heard him perfectly, but her image of him was blurry. All of a sudden, her energy was gone. She wanted to leave. She really wanted to go back to bed. Booth was no longer guarding the door. If she could make it home, then they wouldn't bother her. They wouldn't follow her home. That would be harassment.

Booth was concerned when he noticed her eyes all glazed over. She was looking at him, but not really seeing him.

She didn't want anyone to worry over her. She tried to say something in her own defense, but the words died on her lips.

He was about to say something else when she made a move to get out of her chair before slumping back into it, her eyes closed.

"Bones," he said while shaking her gently. She was completely limp and unresponsive. "Bones!" By this point, Angela was on the phone, calling for paramedics.

- - - - -

She woke slowly, noticing the sun coming in softly through slits in the blinds. Shit! She was going to be late for work. Then she made the observation that she was not in her own bed. Making an attempt to sit up, she realized she couldn't. Her arms were restrained, each wrist bound to an edge of a hospital bed. Tugging slightly, she could not free her arms from the restraints. Looking around, she made more observations. Several lines snaked from her arms and up to IV bags. A series of slow and steady beeps came from a machine to the left of her bed. She was the only occupant of the room.

She wondered lazily why she was in a hospital bed. For minutes thoughts drifted lazily through her head. What time was it?

Seeley Booth came through the door to her room carrying a can of soda. He made it all the way to her bedside chair before realizing she was awake. He hastily put the soda on the table to his left before leaning in.

"Hey," he said in a voice suitable for a hospital. "You're awake."

"Mm," she said, unable to sit and meet his eyes. "What time is it?"

"It's almost seven."

"Why am I restrained?"

"Well," he took a deep breath, "you've been unconscious since this morning. They hooked you up to these IVs, and you've managed to remove them twice without even waking up. You really need what's in those bags, so they restrained you so you couldn't tear them out again."

"I don't even remember what happened." She paused "Why am I here?"

"Do you remember what happened in your office this morning?" Her face tightened, so he knew she remembered. "Right. Well, you went unconscious on us, Bones. Your pulse and blood pressure were very low. I think they said your blood pressure was something like 42 over 19, and your pulse was 38."

"I must have overdone it with the juice cleanse. Maybe my body wasn't ready for it." He hesitated for a moment.

"I don't think that's all it is, Bones." He looked at the floor. "You're not healthy, yet you can't see it. Everyone around you can see how you've changed. You're not yourself anymore."

The conversation was the same as in her office that morning. No matter how hard she tried, she wouldn't be able to get out of it.

"I'm sorry you feel like that, Booth, but I haven't changed. I'm the same Bones as always. I'm healthy. I'm fine." It was hard to have a conversation with him and not be able to see his eyes.

"Bones," he started slowly, "you're not healthy. There are test results that prove it. It's indisputable evidence. You're in a _hospital_, Bones. Healthy people do not pass out. Healthy people do not have blood pressures as low as yours." He let the statement hang in the air. "I don't know how to make you see it."

"I'm just making myself better."

He didn't know what to say. He didn't want to even look at her. Lying in the hospital bed covered only by a thin gown and hospital-issued sheeting, she looked thinner and more fragile than ever. How could she not see what she was doing to herself? She was the smartest person he knew. He felt a deep emotional ache in his heart. What he really wanted to do was get angry at her, but he couldn't do that. He wanted to shout at her until she finally saw what was happening. Instead, he sat in silence next to her bed until he heard her breathing take on the deep rhythmic pattern of sleep. The he silently left the room in search of someone he could talk to.

- - - - -

The next time she woke, it was morning. Her left arm was unrestrained, and a nurse was changing the IV bag.

"Oh. You're awake," she said. "I'm Sarah, your nurse. Let me know if you need anything." Brennan wondered for a second if her nurse had ever been a waitress, but let the thought pass.

"When can I leave? I need to get back to work." The young nurse grimaced.

"I'll get your doctor," she said as she departed the room. Sometime later, a man wearing a white coat walked into her room.

"Hello, Temperance," he said with a smile. He was a man of about fifty years with a caterpillar-like mustache sitting on his top lip. "I'm Doctor Shepherd. The nurse said you have some questions for me?"

"I only have one question: when can I leave?" The doctor clucked his tongue.

"Here's the thing Temperance," he began, "you do not appear healthy. You are drastically undernourished and underweight. Based on your medical facts, I'd like to have you complete a psychiatric evaluation before you can be discharged. If you're feeling up to it, I can have a psychiatrist in here in about an hour, after you eat your breakfast." She nodded and he left the room.

Shortly after the doctor left, Sarah came in with a tray bearing breakfast foods. Everything looked disgusting, and she spent half an hour pushing the food around the plate before the nurse took it away with a sad expression.

She spent the following hours with a psychologist in her mid thirties. The woman, Dr. Avery, asked numerous questions about her childhood, adolescence, her work, her friends, and everything in between. Brennan gave short, noncommittal answers. From her experience with Sweets, she knew that psychologists and psychiatrists believed they could take a single sentence and deduce a lifetime's worth of pain. After her session with Dr. Avery, it was recommended to her that she should seek treatment for an eating disorder.

Her nerves jumped at the mention of an eating disorder. That was wrong. Doctor Avery was wrong. Booth was wrong. Sweets was wrong. They were all wrong. She did not have an eating problem. So she did the only thing she thought was sensible: she signed herself out of the hospital against the doctors' orders and went home on shaky feet.

**AN: Reviews, please? They mean a lot to me. Expect the next installment after my paper is in and I have studied some more.**


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